This popular deep-water song usually tells the tales of Shanghai Brown, whose boarding house is said to have been prominent in San Francisco during the 1870s. Shipping off in a Bering Sea whaler would mean spending two to three years in the Arctic.
Lloyd's version is closer to the second version given by Doerflinger from a Nova Scotia fisherman, in which Ben Breezer, the poor sailor boy, must plough the sea once more. The first version comes from Frank Vickery, mate of the schooner Avon Queen, who sang the same tune for The Sailor's Way.
When first I landed in Liverpool I went upon the spree.
While money lasts I spend it fast, got drunk as drunk could be.
But before my money was all gone on liquor and the whores,
I made up my mind that I was inclined to go to sea no more.
No more, no more! To go to sea no more.
I made up my mind that I was inclined to go to sea no more.
As I was walking down the street I met with Angeline.
She said: “Come home with me, my lad, and we'll have a cracking time.”
But when I awoke, it was no joke, I found I was all alone.
My silver watch and my money too, and my whole bloody gear was gone.
Was gone, was gone! My whole bloody gear was gone.
When I awoke, it was no joke for my whole bloody gear was gone.
As I was walking down the street I met big Rapper Brown.
I asked him if he would take me in, and he looked at me with a frown.
He said, “Last time you was paid off, with me you chalked up no score,
But I'll take your advance and I'll give youse a chance to go to sea once more.”.
Once more, once more! To go to sea once more.
I'll take your advance and I'll give youse a chance to go to sea once more.
He shipped me on board of a whaling ship bound for the Arctic seas,
Where cold winds blow and there's frost and snow and Jamaica rum would freeze.
And worse to bear, I'd no hard-weather gear, for I'd lost all my dunnage ashore.
It was then that I wished that I was dead so I'd go to sea no more.
No more, no more! I'd go to sea no more.
It was then that I wished that I was dead so I'd go to sea no more.
Sometimes we're catching whales, my lads, but mostly we get none,
With a twenty-foot oar in every paw from five o'clock in the morn.
And when daylight's gone and the night coming on, you rest upon your oar,
And oh boys, you wish that you was dead or snug with the girls ashore.
Ashore, ashore! Snug with the girls ashore.
Oh boys, you wish that you was dead or snug with the girls ashore.
Come all you bold seafaring lads that listen to my song.
When you go a-big-boating, I'll have you not go wrong.
You take my tip, when you come off a trip, don't go with any whore,
But get married instead and have all night in and go to sea no more.
No more, no more! Don't go to sea no more.
Get married, my lads, and have all night in and go to sea no more.
The first time I went to Frisco, I went upon a spree.
My money at last I spent it fast, got drunk as drunk could be;
I was fully inclined, made up my mind, I'd go to sea no more!
That night I slept with Angeline, too drunk to turn in bed.
My clothes was new and my money was, too; next morning with them she fled.
And as daily I walked the streets around, you'd hear the people say,
"There goes Jack Rack, poor sailor lad, he must go to see no more."
The first one that I came to was a son-of-a-gun called Brown.
I asked him for to take me in; he looked on me with a frown.
He says, "Last time you were paid off with me you chalked no score.
But I'll take your advance and I'll give you a chance to go to sea once more."
He shipped meo n board of a whaler bound for the Arctic seas.
The wintry wind from the west nor'west Jamaica rum would freeze!
With a twenty-foot oar in each man's hand, we pulled the lifelong day.
It was then I swore when once on shore I'd go to sea no more!
Come all you young seafaring men that's listening to my song!
I hope in what I've said to you that there is nothing wrong.
Take my advice and don't drink strong drinks or go sleeping on the shore,
But get married, my boys, and have all night in, and go to sea no more!
When first I came to Frisco, boys, I went upon a spree.
I spent up all my money and got drunk as drunk could be.
But when my omney was all gone, oh, then I wanted more.
When a man is blind he makes up his mind to go to sea once more.
Ch: Once more, once more, once more once more once more!
Oh there goes Ben Breezer, poor sailor boy, must plough the sea once more!
Oh, when the shades of night came down, I went to take a bed,
But in the morning when I awoke my watch and chain was fled.
As I was passing through the street the lasses all did roar,
Saying, "There goes Ben Breezer, poor sailor boy, must plough the sea once more!"
I shipped on board of a whale ship, boys, bound to the Arctic sea,
Where the cold wind blows, and frosts and snows, and Jamaica rum goes free.
And worst of all, I had no clothes - I spent all my money on shore.
Oh, it's then that I wished that I was dead, or back once more on shore!
Some days we're catching whalefish, boys, and more days we're getting one,
With a twenty-foot oar placed in our hand from four o'clock in the morn.
But when the shade of night comes down we nod on our weary oar.
Oh, it's then that I wished that I was dead or back with the girls on shore!
Come all you jolly fishermen, a warning take by me!
When you come off of a very long trip, oh, don't go on no spree.
Drink no bad rum, smoke no cigars, but lay up your money in store,
And get married, my boys, and have all night in, and go to sea no more!